


The Thing

by moth2fic



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-10-01 16:23:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 14,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10193870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moth2fic/pseuds/moth2fic
Summary: A mission to another planet brings the team into close contact with yet another kind of alien.





	1. Exploration and capture

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to the series The Arrangement. The relationship between John and Rodney is assumed, and the story takes place later than the events in The Arrangement. It is being written chapter by chapter in response to prompts grabbed elsewhere, so although John and Rodney are married, which explains the m/m tag, I have no idea whether the marriage will become important to the plot. The work originally appeared on DW/LJ in very short chapters for a now defunct community with weekly prompts. I have combined the first ‘ficlets’ to make sensible chapter lengths. 
> 
> Thanks to rubyelf and leoraine for prompts so far.

The first chapter was written for two prompts: (1)Safety - Down - Interference and (2) Difference.

"Stop arguing." Sheppard's tone reminded them all he was in charge of the team despite the camaraderie they all felt and frequently displayed. Teyla looked at her nails, Ronon frowned into the distance and Rodney looked ready to argue all over again, but thought better of it.

"Safety," said Sheppard. "It's paramount. Elizabeth is sick and tired of getting us back in pieces or falling apart when we get there. We have to start looking after ourselves better, for the sake of the entire colony."

"But John," said Rodney. Sheppard glared and for once, Rodney subsided. He did mutter under his breath about finding generators being for the good of the entire colony too but everyone was very polite and pretended not to hear him. 

They set off into the forest single file.

"Get down." Ronon's voice was urgent and strong. The others didn't question his barked order, they just got down, lying still on the bare ground under the tall trees. 

Eventually he rose, and the others, seeing him move, got up to join him. 

"What was all that about?" John was not doubting the real need for caution but as team captain he needed to know the details. 

"There was - something - in the high canopy," said Ronon. "I'm not sure what, but it was watching us and it felt hostile. Maybe. But better safe than sorry, as our leader says." He smiled. "While we were down, playing dead, it moved on. For good, I hope. And no, I have no idea whether it was an indigenous life form, a machine of some kind, or an alien like us." 

"I didn't sense it," said Teyla after a moment, "but I have felt something similar in the past, on other worlds. Not on Atlantis," she added hastily. 

"And you never thought to mention this?" Rodney sounded angry but underneath the anger was fear for the team and the colony. 

"It was always too imprecise and too momentary." Teyla did not sound apologetic, only worried.

"If you've felt it elsewhere it isn't an indigenous life form," said John. "And whether it's mechanical or not is hardly the point. Mechanical spies have spy-masters, after all. So we have to wonder who or what is watching us. And learn to run some interference, perhaps. Rodney, I think that's your field, don't you?"

Rodney instantly managed to look proud and willing. Having a job to do would conquer his fear and direct his anger. "Right," he said, "but I'll need help: minions, no less. All of you." And he included John in his sweeping glance. 

 

The forest seemed to go on forever, but there were hills and cliffs and in the cliffs there were caves. Later, when they had settled in a cave, organising their camp site for what could be a long stay. John had contacted Elizabeth and explained that they seriously needed to identify the spy. She had, a little reluctantly, agreed. They had enough rations for a few days.

"As long as none of them have any citrus," said Rodney.

"Rodney, as if we would ever be sent out with any rations containing citrus," said John. "Everyone knows all too well about your allergy. And yes, we know it's serious, which is why we don't complain about the lack of lemon flavoured drinks or orange desserts."

Rodney made a small growling noise but he knew John was right.

The cave was an obvious choice, protecting them from whatever was hovering in the tree canopy and giving them a limited line to defend. Rodney was muttering about numbers on his tablet, and occasionally contacting Radek for calculations using the power available in Atlantis.

"You do know that if someone comes to attack us there's no way out?" he grumbled.

"And at the same time there's no back door in," said John. "I'd really rather only fight on one front since there are so few of us." He ignored Rodney's sigh and sat at the cave mouth, his weapon held easily but alertly across his knees. 

Ronon and Teyla were scouting, together. Ronon had perhaps the most experience of different worlds and Teyla had already sensed the spy elsewhere, though not this time. Between them, they would probably be able to tell whether it was still around. John hoped it hadn't left. He didn't like the idea of an entirely unknown entity monitoring them but he liked even less the idea that it might have disappeared for now, leaving them without answers. 

He watched, hoping they would get some answers before the tablet ran out of power. He supposed they could go back and recharge it but it seemed important to discover as much as possible while they knew the spy was on the planet they were exploring. If Teyla was right, and it was a galaxy wide phenomenon, knowledge might make the difference between life and death on another mission. At one point he asked Rodney to explain what he was doing but even his math skills couldn't follow what Rodney and Radek were investigating. 

"I'm not always convinced you understand it yourselves," he said.

Rodney gave a small lopsided grin. "Some of it's intuitive," he agreed. "There's a pattern that we recognise at some semi-conscious level that points us at the next thing to consider. But this isn't like that - we're just running simulations to check where the spy might be, if it's here at all. It isn't as complicated as you seem to think. Just very rapid." 

John's eyebrows almost met his hairline. "Rapid's an understatement," he said, but he went back to watching the forest, silently. 

Rodney had set up some kind of beam at the cave mouth, based on his gun, set to stun, but only if something other than Ronon and Teyla approached. He had needed very little help but had enjoyed asking John to act as a lab assistant.

Rodney's tablet, calculations and temporary alarm system were not needed in the end. 

Teyla and Ronon came back looking satisfied, Teyla cradling something in her arms and Ronon guarding her and whatever it was. 

"It came down to see who we were and what we were doing," called Teyla when they were within earshot of the cave. "Ronon caught it easily enough and I think we should take it back to Atlantis, or at least get a few people here with more equipment to see what we've got. Turn your beam off, Rodney."

"You're sure it isn't dangerous?" John stood up and hesitated near Rodney's stun gun. 

"It's frightened." Teyla sounded almost maternal. 

"Ronon?" John wanted confirmation; it was Ronon who had suggested the thing was hostile.

"No problems," said Ronon. "Not hostile; frightened. It's very different."

John hoped they were as sure as they sounded. He switched the beam off, then told Rodney to close down his tablet for now, to save power if nothing else. Then they waited as the others brought their captive to the cave.


	2. A close encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team see what Teyla and Ronon have found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt was a picture prompt of a cave with a waterfall beside the entrance and a sandy floor.

As Teyla and Ronon left the trees they passed the thin waterfall just to the left of the cave entrance. The thing in Teyla's arms, the thing covered with Ronon's jacket, seemed to shudder convulsively and Teyla looked both startled and wary.

"Hey, what have you got there?" John sensed that Teyla was not altogether happy with their captive. He didn't want danger for his team.

"I've got... I don't know what I've got. Ronon, what have I got?" Teyla sounded helpless, which was not her usual sound at all.

"No idea," said Ronon. "But I think we can handle it. Just don't touch."

They stepped into the cave mouth and Teyla placed the bundle on the floor. Whatever was in it wriggled and the jacket covering fell aside. John and Rodney stared.

It was about the size of a dog, perhaps a small border collie. There, the resemblance to anything either on Earth or any other planet they'd visited stopped. It was rounded, perhaps, but it was hard to tell because its colours flashed through muted rainbows, disguising its shape as they changed. It had, John thought, spines, like a porcupine, then changed his mind. Those were feathers, speckled ones, each speck a tiny prism reflecting the light. But each tiny barb on each feather had a pointed tip that glinted silver.

"Whatever you do, don't touch the feathers," said Teyla. "Ronon did, and it injected something into him and it was looking nasty, except that then it..."

"...sucked the poison out and spat it on the ground," Ronon finished for her.

"Where," said Teyla, "whatever it spat burnt a small hole, quite quickly."

"And then it looked at us like that," said Ronon, pointing to the thing.

The thing had eyes - a huge number of tiny eyes swivelling on the end of two feathers near what John supposed might be its head. Each eyeball was almost too small to observe properly but the general effect was one of apology and supplication. Puppy eyes, perhaps.

"So you just picked it up and brought it back to the cave," said Rodney. "You couldn't actually have left it and disguised your trail somehow? Couldn't have stopped to think whether or not we wanted to meet your new pet?" His voice was growing shrill with what the others knew was just Rodney expressing concern rather than actual anger.

"Tried that," said Ronon. "It followed us, and it's quite fast."

The thing was not fast at the moment. It was almost still, though its feathers were quivering and there was no breeze.

The eyes swivelled in a complete circle, looking at each member of the team in turn. They all got a strong message of fear, curiosity, apology and hope. And they all felt a need to offer help.

"There's some kind of hypnotic effect," said John.

"Maybe it wants to eat us." Rodney was still in shrill mode. "Maybe it's just soothing us by looking helpless and once we're all dazed it'll start tucking in."

"Except that it made no attempt to hurt us on the way back," Teyla reminded him. "I really think the way it injected Ronon was an accident and that it was sorry."

As if to settle the matter the thing extruded a long ribbon of an indeterminate colour from somewhere near the eyes. The ribbon had a small hole in the end and the thing placed the hollow tip gently on the floor. Then it slurped. They could hear it slurping. When it stopped, and withdrew the ribbon, there was a cavity in the floor. And then, very softly, the thing burped, or at least made a sound that was a burp when made by most creatures. Some of the eyes closed a little and the whole thing sagged till it was like a rather soft pincushion. As they watched, all the eyes closed, and the feathers stopped quivering.

To all intents and purposes their guest was asleep. There were a few moments of silence. Everyone was pondering their next step and nobody wanted to be the first to make any particular suggestions. Ronon made up his mind. He bent and scooped the thing into a roughly fashioned bag he’d made of his jacket, and then turned and set off the way they’d come.

“Hey...”

“What do you think you’re...”

“Wherever are you...”

The other three all spoke at once. Ronon took a few more steps then called back over his shoulder. "We’d have been back on Atlantis by now if we hadn’t needed to establish what was watching us. Now we have, and it doesn’t belong here any more than we do. So I assumed we’d be going home.”

John felt a pleasurable pang, mixed grief and happiness for a friend’s emotions, at the way Ronon referred to Atlantis so casually as ‘home’. The Satedan was beginning to see himself as truly part of their community.

  
Without any discussion they picked their equipment up and set off after Ronon, though Rodney took a few moments to dismantle his stun beam and was a few steps behind the others, grumbling under his breath. John listened carefully; he knew his husband well enough to be aware that listening was sometimes a good thing. But it was all just general griping about wasted energy setting things up and pulling them down again, and trekking through strange landscapes with no real purpose in mind. Nothing to worry about, then.

When they reached the jumper John hesitated. They were about to take a completely unknown entity back to Atlantis. Sure, it seemed harmless. Sure, it hadn’t hurt them yet. But that could be a ruse; it could be bright enough to know that if it persuaded them to take it to their planet it would have access to so much more than a small scouting team.

“Truly, John, it is not dangerous. I would know. Our senses for threat are better developed than yours. Ronon agrees with me, and he is only alive because his threat senses outclass mine a hundredfold.” Teyla was clearly anxious to reassure him.

“But it could have hypnotised you.” Rodney, being his usual pessimistic self. Ronon’s eyebrows climbed almost to his hairline and Teyla’s smile was only just this side of patronising.

“I don’t think so, Rodney,” said John. “Two of them? Two people with enhanced senses? And then why not try it on us, too? It was very wide awake when it met us, and yet we’re not under any kind of compulsion. I have no idea what it is or what it wants, but I think we’ll find out more by taking it back with us. We need more minds on this, and possibly machines, too.”

“You’re not going to hurt it?” Teyla sounded worried.

“Of course not. But I do think we need to find a way to interrogate it. It’s clearly intelligent and might have a great deal of information for us.” John opened his communicator and apprised Elizabeth of his plans. She didn’t say much but at least she didn’t oppose him. So they boarded the jumper and strapped in. Ronon carefully placed the thing in a holding crate meant for the transport of fragile artefacts. It gave what could almost be described as a sigh, and shifted slightly, its rainbows shimmering in the shadows of the jumper cabin. And it continued to sleep.


	3. Coming and going.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Return to Atlantis with the thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this point, the weekly prompts dried up but then I got some more, in another comm. 
> 
> Just imagine, one day filled not with wraith attacks but with stuff not working properly, the sewer system getting broken, some strange space moths turning up in the food supply. Or what a pain it would be to try and get a cleaning lady over there: D 
> 
> These ideas will take us through this chapter and the next two.

They were aware of problems getting back to Atlantis. Nothing insurmountable. Nothing they could really report. Just a few odd bumps and lurches as they attempted to land themselves back in their place. The thing slept on. Ronon carried it out of the jumper, wrapped in his jacket. He was about to deliver it to some scientists – though it was clear the xenobiologists were arguing with at least one other group over who should take precedence – and then a nudge from Teyla made him hesitate.

“I think one of us, at least, should stay with it,” John told the assembled crowd. “We already know it’s sentient, at least as much as a horse or dog, and possibly more, and it seems to have bonded with Ronon so…” Ronon followed a couple of scientists to their lab. Nobody argued with John when he was in leadership mode.

Elizabeth’s raised eyebrows said more than enough. Nobody needed any kind of medical inspection or intervention so the others followed her and settled down to report on their trip and their return passenger.

“That’s all very well,” she said, “but we know nothing whatsoever about it. It could be highly dangerous.”

“We don’t think so,” said Rodney. As he was usually the first to express doubts his opinion was likely to weigh in favour of the thing. “We think it could be lost. It doesn’t seem to be hostile.”

“So long as someone – someone armed – is watching it at all times,” said Elizabeth. “But how are we going to feed it? Do we know if it only eats sand? And if so, what kind of sand?”

“There’s plenty of sand on the mainland,” Teyla reminded them. “We can take it there and keep it in an uninhabited area with guards for a while. We can see if it likes the sand there. If it doesn’t, I suppose we consider taking it back to where we found it, but since we don’t think that was its home planet and it was eating happily, it’s likely to eat any sand it finds.”

“Even if it isn’t its favourite,” said John.

“Unless it turns out to have an allergy,” said Rodney. The others just looked at him.

“Rodney,” said John, patiently, “if it was going to be allergic to some kinds of sand and not others it would probably have died by now. Remember Teyla sensed it on a number of worlds.”

“That’s another thing,” said Elizabeth. “How did it travel? It doesn’t look capable of manipulating the gates.”

 

Ronon was watching the biologists examine the thing. After a little poking and prodding it woke up. A moment later, it was in his arms, fluttering its feathers or quills or whatever they were, frantically. The quills brushed away from him so it was clearly trying not to prick his skin. But it was trembling. Eye contact was a rather hit-and-miss affair though maybe it could use all its eyes at once. Still, it was hard to know what it was and wasn’t seeing. Anna, one of the biologists, came and stood next to him, making what they all hoped were soothing noises and waving her hands gently.

“Maybe if we gave it something to eat,” somebody said. Ronon explained. Sand was not in great supply in Atlantis although they thought the botanists might have some to mix with certain types of soil. A junior scientist was sent to find out, and Anna continued to attempt contact. A bucket of sand proved to be very acceptable and the thing settled but seemed unwilling to leave the shelter of Ronon’s arms. When he tried to place it in an empty vivarium some of its quills clumped together to form what were almost paws. It clung.

“Hey, this is flattering, but I have needs too.” Ronon sounded bewildered and one of the scientists was obviously trying not to laugh when the rest of John’s team joined them. The quills swivelled and the not-paws separated into quills again. The thing strained against Ronon’s arms and he promptly handed it to Teyla.

“Didn’t want to take it to the bathroom with me,” he said as he left the lab, and most of the people who heard him were helpless with laughter, imagining the big Satedan with the spiky thing juggling personal needs in a small space.

“That explains how it manipulates the gates,” said John, and Elizabeth, who had followed them, nodded. Teyla was rocking the thing in her arms, crooning softly, and Anna was watching closely.

“I think it might be a child,” she said. “A lost child.”

Rodney stared at her. “So what will the parents be like, and do you think they’ll come looking for it?” he said.

 

They took the thing to the mainland the following morning. It had refused a second bucket of sand but Anna thought that might just be because it wasn’t hungry.

Rodney and John had spent a lot of the night talking about it. Rodney in particular was concerned that they should be able to communicate with it somehow.

“If it was a cat or a dog,” he said, “we could work out what it wanted, at least.”

“But that’s because they’re much more similar to us than the thing is,” said John. He stroked Rodney’s hips almost absent-mindedly and Rodney wriggled with pleasure then sat bolt upright in their bed.

“That’s it,” he said, with an air of someone about to cry ‘eureka’.

“What is?” John knew better than to pull his husband back to the mattress. Serious discoveries were not to be interrupted even in the interests of marital harmony.

“You stroked me and I responded.”

“If you think I’m going to make sexual advances to a rainbow porcupine…”

“No, not that. We communicated without words. A kind of sign language. We could try it on sign language. It has eyes, after all. And a brain, obviously. Some dogs respond to hand signals and horses react to foot and leg movements. I wonder what we should use. Nothing that brings anyone into too close contact with the quills, but maybe some kind of language like the one the deaf use.”

“Since we don’t have too many people on Atlantis with that kind of condition, it might be hard to find a teacher,” said John.

“We can’t know till we’ve tried.” Rodney lay down again, and curled into John’s embrace.

 

When they got up, they were upset to discover that their bathroom was not working as well as expected, that the toilet was, if not completely blocked, gurgling horribly and taking time to empty. The others, when they all met, reported similar dissatisfaction. The kitchen staff produced breakfast despite grave difficulties, mostly to do with water fountaining back up through the plugholes of the sinks. It would present problems for washing up but meanwhile there was food. John tried to diagnose the malady, but it appeared the problem lay not with Atlantis herself but with a lack of maintenance to the sewers. The city tried hard to accommodate them all, but they knew they were asking for a lot. There were probably more of them than there were of the original Atlanteans and they made more demands on the infrastructure. Atlantis was sulking, trying to block the underlying problem but failing and feeling stupid and helpless. John spoke to Elizabeth who promised a team of plumbers would attack the sewers during the day, after which he turned on a faucet in a bathroom and told Atlantis that things would be solved, slowly. There was an impression of cautious optimism though the toilets were still gurgling. Meanwhile, they could take the thing to the mainland and settle it there.

 

It appeared Anna knew sign language.

“My little sister is deaf,” she said. “The whole family learnt it and it’s a useful language to have.”

“But there’s no guarantee the thing will have any more idea about what you’re signing that about what we’re saying.” Rodney was playing the pessimist but his hopeful eyes told a different story.

“Of course not,” said Anna. “But I’m used to making hand signals and I think I can adapt some if necessary. I can try, anyway, and if it’s as intelligent as we think, it might understand or at least attempt to. I was the one who taught my sister - she was deaf from birth. It should at least realise I’m communicating. If not, we haven’t lost anything.” So she was one of the biologists who would accompany them to the mainland. “They have good plumbing over there,” she reminded them. “And even in the deserted areas where we’re going to camp, we can dig latrines that work.”

They would have marines with them, mainly to guard the thing, but they could be instructed to set to and provide latrines.  
There was a little grumbling and the odd mutter about grunt work, but with John in charge and a really strange alien to guard, it didn’t seem such a bad idea.

“What about the thing?” John was suddenly curious. “Does it need a bathroom, or special facilities?”

“Not so far as we can see,” said Anna. “This morning there was a pile of what looked like worm casts in a corner of the vivarium. And yes, Teyla did persuade it to go in there eventually. Let’s get it into that carrying crate you brought it back in. More comfortable for it and less of a prickly problem for any of us.” The thing accepted the transfer to the crate with an almost regal air, gliding into the crate as soon as its sliding door was aligned with the open side of the vivarium. Then the paws formed and it clutched Teyla’s sleeve. So she walked beside the crate to their waiting transport and they left the city together.


	4. Softly falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Faulty plumbing is only the beginning of their problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I warned you about the prompt suggestions.

The thing seemed happy to explore within a fenced perimeter they set up. It stayed near Teyla and Ronon for the most part, sucked up sand, made wormcasts in a corner of the area, near the latrines, and watched Anna signing. They didn’t expect it to sign back, of course, but were pleased when it appeared to understand a couple of basic instructions, proving it knew what they meant by left and right, and playing a rather slow but definite game of hide and seek, hiding behind a tree while Anna counted, and coming out when she signed that she had spotted its quills.

John and Rodney decided they were superfluous and could be more use supervising plumbing in the city. Ronon and Teyla elected to stay, but everyone wondered what the thing would have done if they’d gone. It had not yet transferred its affections to Anna, by any means. On the way to the jumper, John brushed something off his sleeve, muttering when it left a silvery dust.

“What the devil?” he said, curious and slightly cross.

Rodney looked at the fabric with raised eyebrows. “It looks like the marks you get when you brush an insect off,” he said. “You know, a moth with wings that shed some kind of scales.”

“I don’t,” said John. “I’m not that well acquainted with moths, on my sleeves or anywhere else.”

“We used to get a lot at dusk in the summer. They would land all over the place, especially if we had the windows open or were sitting outside with a lantern.”

“But the mainland has never had many insects that I’ve noticed.” John sounded doubtful.

“We haven’t been looking for them, and if they’re benign it hardly matters.” Rodney spoke with an air of finality and they reached the jumper without saying anything more.

  
Back in city, everyone they met was at pains to tell them that the sanitary problems were on the way to being solved. The toilets were quiet again, the kitchen sinks were functioning as expected, and the plumbers were being lauded as heroes.

“It might have been more heroic if they’d done their job better in the first place,” murmured Rodney but John shook his head.

“My fault,” he said. “I let Atlantis maintenance slide in favour of new exploration. I should have ordered regular inspections of all the facilities, and I didn’t.”

They had lunch, glad that there were clean plates and smiling staff. Then one of the biologists came hurrying into the canteen.

“We have a problem,” he began, but John interrupted him, saying it was almost dealt with.

“No,” said the man, Edwards or Edmundsen, Rodney thought. “Not plumbing. Insects.”

He got them to come to the lab where the thing had stayed overnight. Every surface was littered with small drab insects with slightly fuzzy wings.

“Moths,” said Edwin. He had introduced himself on the way along the corridor. “We don’t have moths, but here they are.”

John told him about the insect on the mainland and Rodney explained why he thought it was a moth.

“Well, these certainly are,” said Edwin. “They’re like the clothes moths we get on earth but a little bit bigger. Probably a little bit hungrier, too, though it’s the caterpillars that do the damage, not the adults. They seem to be dying like, I was going to say like flies but I suppose like moths would be more to the point. So they might not have laid any eggs, but we ought to spray everywhere, just in case.” They contemplated a city with shredded fabrics: clothes, towels, bedding. And the difficulty of replacing most of it quickly. John and Rodney shuddered and Edwin looked gloomy.

“All right,” said John. “Get some insecticide prepared, but I’m not sure how much. We should only use it where necessary so we need to ask people if they’ve seen any signs.” He supervised the filling of spray cans with a liquid guaranteed to destroy moths, while Rodney went to his own lab to catch up on whatever his team had managed to destroy in his absence even without the help of flying insects. Nobody there had seen any insect activity at all but as he sat at his desk looking over some calculations Radek passed him and swiped at his hair. Rodney looked up swiftly, not sure if this was overfamiliarity or hostility of some kind.

“Sorry, Rodney, I should have warned you. But there was something crawling and I wanted to get it before it disappeared.” Radek spoke casually enough but Rodney felt furious. Something in his hair? Then he glanced at the floor. On the toe of his shoe there was a familiar little body, a silvery greyish brown body, and he sighed. The lab was going to have to be fumigated, he realised.

There were signs of infestation in the corridor, in Elizabeth’s office and in the meeting room. There were a few tiny corpses in the canteen, near their normal table, but none in the kitchen. The afternoon was spent with sprayers colliding with plumbers and John colliding with all of them. Eventually he grabbed Rodney’s arm and dragged him to their room.

“I just need a rest from this madness,” he said, opening the door. And then they saw. The air was thick with moths, some flying slowly in zig zag patterns, and some falling softly like snow. The floor was covered in them, and the bed had a new coverlet of brown and grey. John sighed and called the insecticide team. The couple would not be sleeping in their own quarters tonight.  
Nor, it appeared, would Elizabeth and Radek, or any of the biologists who had dealt with the thing.

John contacted Ronon. “Sorry to bear bad news,” he said.

“I don’t think it’s going to be news,” said his friend. “I assume you’re going to tell us we have a moth problem. Believe me, we know.”

“And we think it might be the thing, although we can’t think how,” said John.

Teyla joined Ronon and they made the call a group one. “It shook itself this afternoon,” she said. “It was as if someone had beaten a very old rug. Clouds of insects. But they don’t live long here. Goodness knows where it kept them or even if it knew they were there. It seemed – ashamed, somehow. It hid behind the tree and Anna wasn’t playing with it at the time.”

“You’ll have to go through decontamination when you come back,” John told her. “And then any visitors will have to wear suits. You’re sure they’re not going to spread to the settlement?”

“They can barely fly. I don’t think any of them are going to get far. But of course,” she added, “we have absolutely no idea how many of them the thing is carrying.”

“And there’s worse news,” said Ronon. “They’ve crawled into the rations. They’re dying, yes, but nobody’s keen to eat food with dead moths in it and all over it.”

“Right,” said John. “We’ll save some of the insecticide for you, then. And we’ll bring it across with some well-sealed food supplies.”


	5. A Clean Sweep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You can never get a cleaner when you need one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end of the prompts I've been given. If nobody comments with a prompt over the weekend I shall go to a prompt comm on DW and find something.

They flew to the mainland well supplied with sealed food and canisters of insecticide fitted with spaying gear. John and Rodney wore space suits. Not that they needed them to guard against anything on the mainland, but they had been fumigated and had no desire to go through the process again. Their room was still out of bounds because it was a mess, with tiny dusty bodies everywhere.

“At least we know they can’t survive here, whatever they are,” said John.

“But they make certain they lay eggs before they die,” said Rodney, gloomily. “And remember we’ll have all this lot to clear up when we get back.” He had tried to find someone to clean the room for them, without success. Cleaners did exist on Atlantis; people who would clean, tidy and generally maintain the place were essential, after all. But they were all busy dealing with the canteen, the labs and Elizabeth’s office.

“Impossible, if you mean this week,” said Leonardo, head of the general maintenance crew. “Unlikely, if you mean next,” he added.

“So what are we supposed to do?” Rodney had spluttered his indignation.

“Clean the place yourselves? We can provide you with brushes and cloths, and even with polish if you need it. Spray cleaners, too. Guaranteed not to disagree with your electronics.”

“But I’m a scientist.” Rodney poured a wealth of meaning into his statement. Scientists did not clean up after themselves. Scientists expected to have people to do that sort of thing for them.

“O.K. So stay in temporary quarters till we get round to you,” said Leonardo with a shrug.

  
Now, as they reached the Thing’s camp, Rodney remembered the shrug. Nobody would clean up for him but here he was, cleaning up for other people.

The science team and the military were herded together by Ronon and most of them seemed only too pleased to be sprayed and then shoved quickly through a fence to a holding area that had already been sprayed so that they had a safe place to wait. Teyla cringed when it was her turn but obediently ran her hands through her hair, dislodging quite a few moths in the process. Ronan’s dreadlocks were a problem but one he solved with extra spray followed by shaking his head for all the world like a dog after a swim. Some moths flew out, very dead. Rodney felt a nudge as the canister he was using bumped against his leg. He looked down to see the thing pushing it, hard. Then it paused, perhaps realising it had his attention, and formed its strange paws with some of its quills.

“Sorry, pal,” said Rodney. “I never learnt to sign.”

Anna must have heard him because she was beside him almost immediately. “It’s saying please,” she said. “We haven’t got very far yet. It understands a lot more, of course, which is always the case in language learning, but I do know it can manage the basic pleasantries.” Rodney stared, first at Anna and then at the thing. It seemed to stare back, the eyes on the quill stalks giving an impression of a puppy, pleading.

“I think it wants to be sprayed,” said John.

Carefully, not wanting to alarm the thing if he acted too quickly or had misunderstood, Rodney turned the hose and nozzle so that they pointed at the thing. The thing bounced.

“Yep,” said John. “I think you might call that enthusiasm.”

Rodney lowered the force on the nozzle and turned it on. The thing bounced again, in the drops of the spray, turning this way and that and then right over so that what might be its underside, at least for now, was covered in insecticide.

“Whoa,” said John, hastily backing away and dragging Anna with him. He had finally taken his helmet off and Anna, of course, was not suited up. Rodney was still in full gear and got drenched in spray when the thing shook itself, not just like Ronon, but spinning at the same time, like a top, and then rolling, shaking as it went. The quills glistened in the drops of spray, moths and tiny larvae scattered in all directions, and eventually the thing stopped and put a quilled ‘paw’ on Rodney’s knee.

“And that’s a thank you,” said Anna, smiling. “I don’t think it liked its little guests any more than we did.”

The fence was pushed aside, the guards swept the whole area, and Teyla, with a young botanist who clearly liked either food or cooking, opened the new supplies. The old ones were sprayed before being buried in what had been intended as a latrine. When everyone was fed and satisfied, John addressed them all.

“It seems our guest didn’t intend to give us a moth rash,” he said. “But we have no idea what other surprises it might have in store. You’ll need to stay here a while longer, I’m afraid. Just watch carefully for anything out of the ordinary. Teyla will let you know what’s normal for round here if you aren’t sure. And Anna, carry on with the language lessons. They’re obviously working.”

They packed the canisters into the jumper and stripped off their suits. No need to go home looking as if they’d been on some kind of active mission, although in a sense they had. Still, arriving in normal clothes would let people in the gate room know the crisis was over.

“Only that crisis,” said Rodney. “There’s still the crisis of our room to deal with. I’m seriously tired of sweeping up.”

“So am I,” said John, “but I can’t wait to have you back in the privacy of our room. The temporary bunk room does not make suitable married quarters.”

“OK,” said Rodney, hoping he wasn’t blushing. “A little cleaning’s maybe a small price to pay for a return to our own bed. I can’t remember whether you carved any moths into that foot rail.”

“Did you hope I had or I hadn’t?” John was amused but curious, too.

“Hadn’t.” Rodney was definite. Very definite. “If I never see another moth while we’re on Atlantis it’ll be too soon,” he declared.


	6. Soul Music

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The bedroom is clean, the mainland encampment is clean, and now the team are wondering what the thing will do next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a prompt grabbed in a kind of fly-by past a prompt comm on DW. The prompt was a little more complex than the title would lead you to believe but that was the gist of the idea.

After cleaning their room very thoroughly with some kind of vacuum cleaner produced by Atlantis and found in a cupboard in the corridor, they felt drained. Cleaning, it appeared, was hard work. It needed attention to detail and did nothing for Rodney’s back. However, the room was now pristine, even if all its occupants could do was fall into bed and into a deep dreamless sleep.

It wasn’t till morning that John felt able to make use of their privacy and the comfort of their mattress. And all the time he was aware that Rodney was eyeing the foot rail, looking for carved moths. Eventually, he gave up and got up. Rodney was unimpressed but had to admit his mind had not been wholly on his husband.

“I just wanted to make sure,” he said. John glared.

“By the time they reached the canteen for breakfast the atmosphere between them was thawing a little. Ronon and Teyla were still, of course, on the mainland, so there were empty seats at their table. Radek joined them and sensed the frost.

“Trouble in paradise?” he asked then continued to eat as though he had said nothing.

“Nothing you can do anything about,” said Rodney just as John said exactly the same thing in the same tone of voice. “And Elizabeth can’t help either,” added Rodney, forestalling an offer he was sure Radek would make.

“It’s the moths,” explained John. “They got everywhere, we had to clean our quarters, Rodney has a bad back, and…”

“Tmi.” said Radek, grinning. “But I’m glad to hear you’ve sorted out the insect invasion. Elizabeth was concerned. And a concerned Elizabeth is not easy to live with.”

“We’re going back to the mainland today,” John told him. “We haven’t had any more urgent pleas for help but I want to see for myself that everything’s OK.”

 

They went without suits, assuming that if there any further infestations they’d have been told. Teyla was waiting for them and was smiling.

“Our visitor seems happy,” she said.

When they reached the compound, which was rapidly turning into a military encampment and even boasted a soccer pitch, they could hear music. John raised an eyebrow. It was soft but pervasive and sounded like absolutely nothing on the devices they had brought from home or the music some of the crew had made and recorded on Atlantis.

“Come and see.” Teyla led them to one end of the flat pitch and they saw that the thing was moving around slowly, to the music, which sounded louder as they got nearer. They could almost believe the thing was making the pleasant but strange noise. It was certainly rocking and rolling to the rhythm of the notes. Then it saw them or sensed them and stopped. It bounced across to Teyla and leapt so that she had to catch it in her arms. Fortunately she was wearing a long sleeved tunic and the thing was being careful.  
Then it seemed to shiver and the music started again. Teyla’s eyes widened.

“I can feel it throbbing,” she told the others. Ronon and Anna had joined them, too, along with Derek, one of the marines.

“It makes music, it plays games, it ask questions and says thank you,” said Rodney. “It’s clearly not just sentient but really intelligent.”

“Like a dog or a horse?” John sounded unsure.

“No, like a human,” said Rodney. Anna nodded and Ronon looked pleased, as if he agreed.

“So - like a wraith?” John frowned.

“Probably not. It hasn’t shown any hostility or predatory behaviour yet. It seems to eat minerals, not anything animal or vegetable, though we haven’t tried it with bone and I don’t think we should. And it’s all alone but showing no real sign of distress. Though of course we wouldn’t necessarily recognise its distress signals.”

“Are we saying,” asked Anna, “that it’s like us?”

“I suppose so,” said Rodney. “I don’t know whether it has a soul or anything that passes as a soul but I’m not sure about humans in that respect, anyway. I definitely think we have to regard it as a person, in the legal sense of the definition.”

The thing wriggled. It jumped down lightly from Teyla’s embrace and the humming increased in volume. It began to spin, mostly on the spot, but occasionally moving this way and that. Every quill unfolded smaller filaments, each with a sparkling eye at the end so that each quill hosted twenty eyes instead of one. The colours were changing, too, until it was whirling in a cloud of white and then stopped, perched quite still on one quill support, while the music turned into a deep sustained note.

“A happy person, at least,” said Anna and this time it was Ronon who nodded enthusiastically. Derek, like John, still seemed uncertain what to make of it all.

The tiny eyes started winking. The thing looked for all the world like a ball of thistledown with glitter added. Then Rodney was crouching, looking intently.

“There’s a pattern,” he said, and then gestured to them all to hush. He watched for a while, and then stood again. “It’s communicating,” he said. “We need to run those glitter patterns through a computer. I think we’ll find it’s a kind of language. It’s reacting to our efforts to use sign language – Anna’s efforts, I should say. It realises we can observe actions and patterns and it’s trying to teach us its own language.”

“That’s a lot to infer from some sparkles on a dandelion seed head,” said John. “How can you be so sure?”

“See for yourself,” said Rodney, crouching again, and this time John copied him. They both stared intently at the thing.

“There’s some kind of mathematical pattern,” John agreed. “But we can’t process it fast enough to learn. And I’m not sure we can reproduce it, either. We should try. Corporal Meakin, get someone to bring a laptop over here, will you?”

Derek almost ran and was back quickly. John put the laptop on the ground and tested the camera and mic. He turned the machine so that it faced the thing and then they waited. The music started again, and the twirling grew faster. The sparkles increased until they were treated to what looked like a firework show, a rain of flashing light.

“Some kind of glass, made from the sand,” Rodney was muttering. “They use it to make the flashes and to communicate.”

“They?” It was Teyla who asked what all of them were wondering.

“Yes, they,” said Rodney, testily. “This is a social creature that needs to communicate. It can’t possibly be the only one of its kind. That level of communication simply wouldn’t have evolved, right, Anna?” He looked at the biologist who agreed at once.

“I already said I thought it might be a child,” she pointed out. “I think an adult would have told us more by now. And perhaps it was a very uncomfortable child, with its insect population. It’s happy now, I'm pretty sure.”

“And as I said when you first mentioned the idea,” said Rodney, “I think we really have to wonder about the parents. If they’re so social, they aren’t going to be pleased that their young one is missing.”

“But it’s been missing for ages,” Teyla objected. “I told you it was spying on us on other worlds.”

“Trying to see whether we were dangerous.” Ronon should know. He’d done the same.

“We have no idea of how they experience time,” said Rodney. “It might only have been one of their mornings, or generations could have passed. I still think someone will be looking for it. And when they find it we just have to hope the soul music proves it’s happy and healthy and that we’ve been good baby sitters.”

The thing seemed to have run out of melody and moves. It folded the filaments and shrank back to its usual shape, more like a small porcupine and less like a glistening giant puffball. Then it rolled away from them, clearly bored with all the grown up talk.


	7. Karma chameleon, you come and go.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some scientists and IT experts doing what they do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A friend on Dreamwidth gave me the prompt 'chromatophore' which I had to google. I am not a scientist, but it seemed appropriate so here we go! If the science is scanty or a little fuzzy, I apologise.

Anna and Rodney spent what seemed like an inordinate amount of time hunched over a computer, occasionally asking for John’s input on questions of mathematics, and frequently filming the thing and transferring their filmed date to the computer files. The thing, meanwhile, continued to bounce around the site, making its music. 

“It’s humming,” said Ronon, and really, nobody could contradict.

It occasionally went into what they were thinking of as rapid mode, coming over to the computer group and bouncing excitedly, changing colours and flashing like some kind of demented disco lighting. The filming got excited at those time, too.

“Well,” said Rodney, eventually, “there’s no doubt has chromatophores.”

“It has what?” Teyla and Ronon spoke simultaneously. 

Rodney looked vaguely surprised. “I tend to forget you guys don’t share our technical jargon,” he said, in the only approach to an apology they were likely to get. “Chromatophores are special cells that can be utilised to change the kind of light reflected. They can be used to signal all kinds of things: emotions, camouflage, display.

“That’s not exactly news,” said John. “You only need to watch it to work that out, whether you know the correct terms or not. Are you saying it’s like an octopus, or a chameleon?”

Rodney played with the words. “Chamelopus; octoleon.” He looked at Anna.

“Either’s better than ‘thing’, I think,” she said. “Although chameleons use a kind of cell signalling, which isn’t quite the same thing. But this octoleon, for want of a better name, isn’t just reacting to its environment. It’s definitely trying to communicate. We’ve run the patterns of the changes and flashes through some code breaking programs, but apart from needing more time, we actually need it to go slower, and perhaps to get the idea of what we’re doing.”

“So if you could ensure that it was using the lights to signal words that it already shares with us, such as ‘please’...” Teyla crouched down and beckoned to the thing which came to her, bouncing. It slurped as it sucked up some nearby sand, then curled up at her feet, almost, but not quite touching her knees. 

Teyla pointed at the sand. “Sand,” she said  
.  
Anna signed, “Sand.”

The thing signed back. “Sand,” then, “Good.” Then it seemed to realise what was wanted and flashed a quick but short sequence.

It took hours, but by mid-afternoon they had a working vocabulary and the computer was poised to translate. The thing, or Octoleon, as they were now all calling it, was clearly tired, but still eager to please. Or perhaps just eager to communicate, so eager it didn’t care about sleep. It still cared about food, and sucked in some sand from time to time. 

“You were right, Anna,” said Rodney. “It’s a child, or at least a small one. There are bigger ones who will be looking for it. It ran away when it got the moths. Moths are considered bad. Bad for the individual and for the community. I’m not surprised.”

“Those kind of moths are bad for everybody,” agreed John, “and very bad for one’s social life.”

“Yes, well,” Rodney continued, “they’re certainly bad for Octoleon. As I said, he left the big ones behind and tried to hide. That’s why he was travelling from world to world. He thought we might help, and we did.” 

“He appreciated the spray,” said Anna, eyeing some of the empty cannisters that still littered the site. “He thinks the big ones would like some spray. They don’t have moths now, but I think he’s trying to say ‘in case’ though our basic grammatical constructions aren’t quite up to that yet.”

“How big?” Ronon voiced everyone’s concern. “I’ve never seen anything like this on any of the worlds I’ve visited. They must live on a world far from here, or maybe on ships like the Wraith hive ships.”

“But they aren’t hostile.” Anna made it sound like both a definitive statement and a query.

“We don’t know,” said John. “Octoleon isn’t, but his parents or whatever they are might be. Or not. But maybe we should be prepared. I ought to tell Elizabeth what we’ve been doing and what we’ve found out.”

Octoleon was bouncing again. Anna turned to it. There were a few flashes, almost hesitant. These were repeated when she pointed the camera in the right direction. 

“It’s like any language,” she told the group when the translation came through. “It’s much faster to learn to decode than to compose. Octoleon understands what we’re saying to some extent. There’s a fantastic computer brain in that ball of quills.”

“So what does it say?” Teyla held out her hand to Octoleon, who brushed a few quills gently against her skin, bending the tips to make sure there was no chance of puncture.”

“It says they, the big ones, will be friends,” said Anna. “It seems certain, and it has no reason to pretend or lie. We rid it of the moths, after all, and we haven’t hurt it.”

“Also,” said Rodney, sounding extraordinarily satisfied, “it knows about the Wraith, and says the big ones don’t like them either.”

“Enemies of our enemy. We can hope. I’m wondering just how big these big ones are,” said John. And suddenly Octoleon was bouncing beside him. It was as if a child was tugging at his jacket, wanting to be heard. The flashes were very bright. It took a few moments, but Rodney had a translation for them quite quickly now that the program had more and more information to process. 

“We won’t be wondering for long,” he said. “Octoleon says they’re on their way and we’ll meet them soon. A couple of sucks of sand is the time estimate given, which by my reckoning gives us all of an hour or so.”

John was contacting Elizabeth as soon as Rodney finished speaking, and turned to the rest of the team after speaking to her. “Elizabeth wants us back in the city,” he said. “Anna, you and the rest of the science team and some of the marines, stay here with Octoleon.”

As they headed for their transporter, Rodney sighed. “I was enjoying the code breaking and the science,” he said. “I suppose it was all too good to last.”


	8. Signs and portents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octoleon is re-united with its people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for this chapter was 'signal'.

The city was buzzing with talk, preparation, and the kind of edge-of-the-seat feeling that always accompanied any potential arrival, good or bad. 

“We have a Wraith hive ship approaching,” said Elizabeth, her face tight with worry. 

“But,” said Radek, “there is something else as well.”

“Something as well as the Wraith out there?” Rodney’s voice was almost a squeak. John smiled fondly. Rodney was good in actual dangerous situations but didn’t handle anticipation too easily. 

“Any reason to believe whatever it is is hostile?” he asked.

“No reason to believe anything whatsoever at the moment,” said Elizabeth, turning to Radek for further clarification.

“It’s huge. It’s a kind of cloud, and yes, thank you, Rodney, I am quite aware that there are no clouds in space or not the kind we see in atmosphere. But it is cloudlike. It’s amorphous and the shape changes frequently. It seems to contract and expand, too. Also...” he hesitated.

John made an inspired guess. “...it flashes and there’s a kind of pulse that could be musical if it was travelling anywhere but space.”  
“How...?” Elizabeth and Radek were equally startled, so John brought them up to date on the activities on the mainland.  
They all went to the bridge, watching as the hive ship and the cloud approached closer. They were still both some way off but John had all his marines on standby and Rodney had weapons readied.

Then there was strange blurring and the cloud seemed to have expanded even more. There was no sign of the hive ship. 

“They’ve joined forces?” Elizabeth was even more worried now.

“I don’t think so.” John reminded them that Octoleon had not seemed to like the idea of the Wraith. As he spoke, the cloud seemed to give off a burst of something: whether it was energy or matter wasn’t clear. Whatever it was was expelled from the cloud and spread like dust in the surrounding area, spinning in space. Matter, then. And the cloud came on.

As the cloud reached the atmosphere there was a spark, and then it seemed to be falling straight for the city. Suddenly the flashes were brighter, more patterned, and the throb became alien music.

“It’s a kind of signal,” said Rodney, frantically trying to run the same programs he had used with Anna. John contacted the mainland group and got Anna to talk directly to Rodney while Derek, the marine, was speaking to the rest of them.

“Octoleon’s excited,” he said. “It’s bouncing up and down, and flashing as fast as it can. We think it might be signalling back to whatever it is. We can see it in the sky and for all we know, it may have better far sight.”

Rodney was excited too, and bouncing as he gave Elizabeth and John the first rough translation.

“We have their young one,” he said, “but of course we knew that. They thank us for our care. The young one is unharmed and is happy. It was...”He hesitated then continued. “...moth-eaten. Sorry, that’s the best translation I can find. They chased it to cure it but it ran.”  
“Octoleon is contacting them so I think they’ll make for the mainland,” said Elizabeth, and without further discussion they all headed for the jumper. 

“Radek, stay here, would you?” Elizabeth’s voice was soft but firm. “I don’t expect anything to happen but we need someone in charge just in case.” Radek looked disappointed but fell back. John was issuing similar instructions to Lorne.

So it was just John and his team with Elizabeth who returned to the camp.

 

They were just in time. The cloud was close, so close they could see that it was composed of a number of individuals, all very like Octoleon but much bigger. They clumped together like a cluster of bubbles and touched down gently just beyond the perimeter of the camp. The mass bounced a little then split into five discrete entities. Four were subdued and lightless, a little like a sleepy Octoleon, but the fifth was flashing, slowly. Anna and Rodney rushed to interpret. 

“It’s difficult,” said Rodney. “Every time we think we have the gist of it, Octoleon joins in and changes the patterns.”

“Just like a child,” murmured Teyla.

There were a lot of stops and starts but in the end they worked out what had happened. The group called themselves the Kammelia and were from a planet some way off and not served by a stargate. Atlantis had never interacted with their people though they were aware of its activities. The moths were indigenous to their planet, Kammel, and were a pest. They spoiled the sand, made flashing cells dull, thereby inhibiting conversation and into the bargain itched abominably. The only cure was a bath in some kind of acid and it was something everyone dreaded. Faced with a bath, Octoleon had fled. They had chased him but he had gone off world and then landed on another planet and hidden in a forest. 

“It must have been a planet with a stargate,” said Ronon, thinking of his own time as a runner. 

Worried, and perhaps grieving, the Kammelians had tried to follow but had lost track of the errant child. All they could do was wait until it flashed any kind of signal, and to that end they had groups drifting through space, watching for signs.

“So,” said Anna, “when it started ‘talking’ to us, they were able to pick up the signal and home in on it.”

“They are particularly intrigued by our insecticide,” said Rodney, “and I think we need to have Teyla talk about trade with them.” 

“Ask them about the Wraith ship.” Elizabeth still sounded concerned. 

“They say they... no, that can’t be right.” Rodney looked at Anna for confirmation.

“Yes, Rodney,” she said. “They say they ate it, that it tasted horrible and that they spat out the remains.”

Everyone thought of the glittering dust that had been expelled from the cloud. John gulped as he spoke for all of them.

“I think we had better remain extremely friendly with these Kammelians," he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pashiradoki_83 wrote a fantastic imagined conversation with SGC about the trade idea, in the comments to this chapter. Don't miss it!!


	9. Runners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Atlanteans negotiate with the Kammelians

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for this was 'rogue' and it took a while to work out how to build it into the story.

“So they don’t just eat sand,” said Elizabeth.

“So far as we can make out,” said Anna slowly, still deciphering flashes and glancing at Rodney for confirmation. “They say sand is their preferred food. Apparently the moths lay their eggs in sand, which is why they’re so hard to get rid of and such a pest. Oh, and that means we should probably fumigate all the sand around the camp, too.”

John gave the order immediately. Then he, too, looked at Rodney. “What else do they eat? There’s something you’re not telling us or that they haven’t explained yet.”

Rodney had gone rather pale. “They’re quite fond of spaceships,” he said.

“And the Daedalus is on its way.” John groaned. 

“We’re asking them now if there’s any way we can avoid disaster,” said Rodney, quietly. 

“They’re amenable.” Anna smiled. “They just say it will cost us in insecticide.”

John checked with stores. There was, it seemed, sufficient stock of ingredients to make quite a large quantity of the stuff, though they would have to order replenishments on the next trip the Daedalus made. Provided there was a next trip, of course. Production was stepped up and Anna continued to negotiate.

Rodney was still monitoring the flashes, too, but stopped when Octoleon bounced up to him and nudged his knee. After a few moments of flashes from the parent group, from Octoleon and from the computer, Rodney cleared his throat to attract everyone’s attention.

“It isn’t quite that simple,” he said. “Octoleon here pointed out that he wasn’t exactly the first to run when a bath was offered. And not all runners are found. So there will be rogue Kammelians out there who haven’t heard about our insecticide and who may not have found adequate supplies of sand.”

“Can we leave signals of some kind on as many worlds as possible?” John was anxious and knew the others were too.

“Yes, and they’ll help us to formulate them, but there’s no guarantee every runner will hear in time. They’re pretty sure there’s nobody else in this area of space just now. Octoleon would almost certainly have met them if there had been. So the Daedalus should be safe this trip now that they know about it. Otherwise they’d just have gulped it down and asked questions afterwards. I think it must be the silicates in the ships’ construction that appeal to them when they’re short of sand,” he added, frowning. 

“Is there any precaution they ought to take on the way back or on the next trip?” Elizabeth sounded even more anxious than John. Even the most experienced diplomat would find it hard to employ normal skills against rogue runners. 

There was a great deal of flashing. 

“They’ve just made what seems to be an incredible offer,” Rodney said at last. 

There was an expectant silence then he seemed to realise that he hadn’t shared whatever had astounded him with the group. 

“They will give us a child. Not exactly a child. They reproduce by binary fission so somewhere, Octoleon has a twin and it would be hard to identify anything we know as a parent. The young ones take quite a while to reach adult size and maturity. They need extra sand along the way, too. Anyway, one of this group has offered to split and let one of the new creatures travel on the Daedalus provided we can also ship enough sand for it. They seem to think the journey would be adequate recompense for the trouble because they could all share the child’s research findings in the end. They would donate a new traveller each time we need one; we just need to guarantee the sand and the insecticide.”

“If the sand on the mainland has been cleared of moth eggs we should be able to provide plenty,” said Teyla, her trading knowledge and quick calculation of quantities making her sound optimistic. 

“We’ll need to explain to the Daedalus very carefully,” said Elizabeth.

“I’m not sure they’ll be thrilled at having a baby porcupine on the crew,” said John, “but as the alternative seems to be forming a meal for the adult version they might be on board with the idea.”

“Couldn’t Octoleon go? He already knows us and might cope better,” said Ronon.

Rodney shook his head. “Octoleon is too big and by the time the Daedalus returns he’d be bigger still and the amount of sand needed would be too great. There’s a point at which the entire trip would become a waste of time. Think of Octoleon as a child of about nine or ten in our terms. It won’t be too long before he reaches almost full growth. They’re offering us a baby, again in our terms. But they don’t come with all the learning needs babies have. They retain a great deal of the knowledge of the one who splits.”

“But I’m not altogether clear how having the baby on board will help avoid rogues,” said John.

“They can send out signals to each other,” Anna explained. “Otherwise they would inevitably eat each other as sources of silica. So the rogues would avoid a ship that was signalling.”

“And all the Wraith have to do is find out, and kidnap a baby Kammelian,” said John.

More flashing.

“No,” said Rodney, sounding both sad and relieved. “They recognise Wraith ships and any Kammelian unlucky enough to be captured by one would know it wouldn’t survive. The Wraith are not popular even with beings that are not in apparent opposition to them. They have done a lot of damage on Kammel, it would seem, including mining for minerals.”

The negotiations lasted what seemed like hours but eventually everything was satisfactorily concluded. The Kammelian group settled happily with access to the sand on the mainland and Octoleon joined them, saying goodbye not only with flashes but with the tiny protrusions it used as paws. 

 

“I suspect people will miss our guest,” said John, when he and Rodney, tired but happy, were finally back in their quarters for the night.

“Yes. Teyla and Ronon seemed positively parental towards it,” said Rodney, “and Anna enjoyed being so closely bound up in an important event.”

“What about you? Did you enjoy it? Will you miss it?” John pulled Rodney towards him as he spoke. 

Rodney considered for a moment, leaning against his husband’s shoulder. “I enjoyed the decoding,” he said at last. “I could have done without all the worry about the Daedalus, though. And we probably won’t really miss Octoleon. When the Daedalus comes back next time the baby will be another Octoleon, and so on and on.”

“Meanwhile,” said John, “I’m just glad we’re free of moths.”

Rodney gave a worried glance at the footboard of the bed. “I never found out whether you carved one,” he said.

“Rodney, if I did, and I don’t remember doing so, we’ll just have to assume it’s a butterfly.”

“What’s the difference?”

“I have no idea. I’m not the scientist around here.”

“And I’m not that kind of scientist,” said Rodney, but his voice was muffled as John kissed him and pushed him gently onto their bed.


	10. A terrible two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The promised babies are cute, after a fashion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for this week was 'pursuit'.

The Kammelians were quite enthusiastic about the idea of sending a youngster with the Daedalus. They said, or rather flashed, that they were hoping to use the Atlanteans (or Terrans) to explore parts of the universe previously closed to them. 

“I just hope they’re as benign as they seem,” said John. 

“I don’t think there’s much danger even if they aren’t,” said Elizabeth. “One young clone, or whatever it is, with no recording equipment. It can bring back tales of adventure and even things like numbers and co-ordinates, but one small planet a long way away is hardly going to be of great interest. Or rather, it will only be of academic interest. They have all this galaxy if they’re in the mood for conquest, after all.”

“So long as nobody takes them to see the Sahara or parts of Saudi Arabia,” said Rodney.

“Why should those places interest them?” Ronon sounded confused.

“Sand,” said Rodney, succinctly. Ronon shrugged. Earth geography was not something he had much idea about.

“I only hope they don’t bring back yet more insect pests,” said John. 

“That’s a horrible possibility,” said Anna. “Earth has more insects than anything. We should tell the Daedalus to fumigate their passenger and everyone else before they return.”

“Noted.” Elizabeth didn’t sound thrilled at the thought of passing on that instruction and everyone grinned.

 

The Kammelians had split into discrete individuals, and now one of them asked for a quiet room to prepare for division. They wanted the young clones to adapt in the city, and become familiar with the kind of technology that would be all around them on their interplanetary transport. They would need to develop a lot of confidence if they were to act as some kind of beacon to prevent their families from treating the Daedalus as they would a Wraith ship. 

Anna and her colleagues were communicating rapidly now with their guests, and a great deal of biological information was being transferred back and forth. Anna said the Kammelians were fascinated to learn that the humans shared their planet with beings who also used flashing colours to express moods and desires, and others that used types of division to create new individuals.

“They can’t quite grasp that we have so many different kinds of creature. They’re used to a kind of monoculture, I think,” said Rodney, who was still half watching the proceedings. 

Most of the Kammelians were near the city now, floating on the water and flashing happily or at least quickly and brightly to the scientist clustered at lab windows. It seemed anthropomorphic to read too much into the flashes, but if Octoleon was anything to go by their guesses were not so far off-target.

Then quite suddenly there was a noise, which in retrospect heralded chaos but at the time seemed like merely the slamming of a door. Two small beings, each roughly the size of a football, came rushing down the corridor from the direction of the room the parent Kammelian had chosen to occupy. The parent followed, only half as big they had been just an hour ago, and somehow sluggish. It had already been agreed that the ‘babies’ would be small, so the ‘parent’ had divided into three, one slightly bigger than Octoleon and the other two very small. 

Octoleon, who had been exploring the city, flashed a greeting but only the parent responded. The youngsters bowled past, spinning and flashing as they went.

They were everywhere. Or at least, so it appeared. No sooner had someone thought to close a door than it would be discovered that the babies were on the wrong side, clamouring to get out, with their musical humming loud and pervasive. They rolled in and out of every laboratory, every office, and every room not already locked. 

“They’re excited,” Rodney explained, when he had exchanged computer flashes with the parent and Octoleon. “They think we should probably catch them. If we can get them to eat some sand they might sleep for a while and integrate their memories plus the new information while they do.”

“I have sand,” said John. “But how on earth are we going to catch them?”

They were fast. They were agile. They were good at evading everything and everyone. And of course there wasn’t a marine on Atlantis who wanted to grab those spines. Even with gauntlets, most of them instinctively let the things slip away.

They were spinning, humming, rolling onto computers, up blinds, behind desks, in and out of cupboards and round and round anyone who got in their way. 

The resultant mayhem was, when they watched camera footage later, hilarious. There were dozens of adult humans and two Kammelians chasing two small and determined spiky balls and totally failing even to contain them in one part of the city, never mind catch them and put an end to their explorations.

“What if they hurt themselves?” Teyla was concerned and maternal.

“What if they hurt equipment, you mean.” Rodney was growling in frustration.

“We aren’t really responsible, you know,” Elizabeth pointed out. “Their parent being offered them and is still here. I think maybe our people should back off and let them lead the pursuit.”

Octoleon, questioned, flashed agreement. 

“They didn’t think,” said Rodney, “that the city would prove so fascinating. Babies on Kammel go on a kind of spree, rushing around in the countryside while they learn about themselves and their surroundings but it hadn’t occurred to anyone that the rushing about would be a bit different in a city.”

“Your first words summed it up,” said John. “They didn’t think.”

 

It all only lasted an hour but it felt like longer to everyone involved. Then Octoleon and the other Kammelian somehow managed to back the new offspring into a doorway. The fact that it was the doorway to the room where John and Rodney lived was probably only coincidence. 

John sighed and asked Atlantis to open the door. Soon the babies were ensconced on the bed and seemed to be talking to their older compatriots if all the flashing was anything to go by.

“Don’t you dare take that sand in there.” Rodney was spluttering. 

“Why? They need to eat and Octoleon thought they would go to sleep afterwards.”

“In our bed?”

“Oh... well... perhaps not, but I think we could carry them if they were asleep and not bouncing around. Ronon carried Octoleon to the jumper, remember.”

It worked out exactly as John hoped. The babies slurped up the sand he offered and then, as babies do everywhere after a good meal, fell asleep. Or at least fell into a quiet state that enabled the older ones to roll them into a pillow case and take them to a room where the biologist team had set up a nursery of sorts, with comfortable beds, plenty of sand, and a computer. When they woke, Octoleon assured everybody, they would be ready to interact and learn, and would probably stop running away. Probably.

“Although I don’t think they were running away, exactly,” said Ronon. “Just running.”

Whatever they had been doing, everyone was very glad they had stopped doing it. 

 

“I hope they’ll sleep a nice long time,” said John. “Then we can tidy up the chaos they’ve created.” He looked around at the scattered papers and instruments in the lab where everyone had gathered. 

“Octoleon thinks about ten of our hours,” said Rodney. “And it and the other one will be there when they wake up.”

 

Octoleon was maturing quickly, and it was good to see it taking responsibility for the babies. It was the only Kammelian with a history of sustained interaction with humans and would be able to pass on all kinds of details the others hadn’t yet assimilated. 

When the babies woke, they were calmer, and seemed more appreciative of Octoleon’s instruction. Their older parent (or sibling, or whatever) was still sleeping. John had looked in on them to check that all was well but now made his way back to his own quarters and Rodney.

He sprawled on the bed, long limbs flung out so that he took up most of the available space. Rodney watched him from a chair by the window where he’d been observing the interplay of flashes between the other Kammelians and the biology team.

“No moths.” Rodney’s voice was lazy and satisfied. “No babies, either.”

“Maybe one day,” said John, slowly. Rodney stared. “Well,” John continued, “human babies take a while before they’re capable of outrunning a fit adult.”

“Good,” said Rodney. “That chase took years off my life and I can’t imagine engaging in another voluntarily.”

“Nor me.” John grinned. “But you have to admit they were cute.”

“I suppose so. And I suppose one day I might have got far enough over it all to consider adoption. I know you’d like that. Meanwhile, at least we can enjoy picturing the faces of the Daedalus crew if those babies decide to lead them a merry dance.” As he spoke, Rodney got up and came over to the bed. He stood looking down at John.

“Come to bed,” said John, trying for sultry but only managing tired.

“I would, but you seem to have taken all the available space.”

“So lie on top of me.”

“I might just do that,” said Rodney, fondness creeping into his voice. And he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week's prompt is 'claim' and I think it will draw the story to a close. I should also say that the next chapter might be late as I expect to offline for a few days while travelling.


	11. ...and finally.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Daedalus has left and the team hope life will return to normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The prompt for this chapter was 'claim'. This ends the story. It was a kind of first for me - I don't usually publish work till it's complete, and I don't usually work to prompts this way, though I might base an entire story on a single prompt. I've enjoyed the different way of working and hope you have too.

They had said goodbye to the Daedalus and its crew. They had made sure the order for insecticide was both large and accompanied by copious notes and explanations. They had ensured that the baby was both on board the Daedalus (with adequate supplies of sand) and on board with its role. They had given up trying to name the Kammelians, unable to transcribe their flashes into anything resembling human names, but having named Octoleon, they had wanted to give the crew a name to use for their new crewmate. Anna had reminded them of the choice between Octoleon and Chamelopus so of course the baby became Chamelopus, and inevitably Cham for short.

So the Atlanteans and the Kammelians had said goodbye to Cham. Or at least, the Atlanteans had, and judging by the amount of flashing the Kammelians had, too. The second baby had tried hard to join Cham but had been forcibly restrained by what they all still thought of as the parent, though Anna pointed out that really, it was just a larger sibling now.

The Daedalus had gone. The Kammelians were sure there were no other of their species currently on the route to Earth so all seemed set fair. They also said they would be leaving soon, to spread the word to others of their kind. There would be much to share, both about the Atlanteans and the Daedalus, and about the insecticide. Elizabeth got the scientists to scrape together enough to send off with them in token of good faith and many canisters to come.

John and Rodney retired to their room that night tired but satisfied. 

“Who would have thought,” said John, “that Ronon sensing a follower on another world would have led to allies and a passenger for Earth?”

“And moths,” Rodney muttered. “But we’ve dealt with those, too. I’m really looking forward to life getting back to normal. At least,” he amended as he saw John quirk one eyebrow, “as normal as life on Atlantis ever gets.”

John had poured glasses of brandy, just ordinary Earth brandy but exotic on Atlantis, a special order that had come with the Daedalus.

“How did you justify the weight?” Despite his question, Rodney raised his glass in salute and sipped appreciatively.

“One luxury per person,” said John. “They allowed for that when they calculated the weights, knowing we would need such things out here. I’m not sure whether the authorities back home see us as some kind of pioneer station lacking even basics, but I’m not about to ask questions. And I imagine you chose coffee.”

“But you’re sharing your luxury with me?”

“Of course. Having a special drink with my husband is definitely a necessity.” John smiled. “And whilst I wouldn’t dream of begging for constant coffee I’m hoping you’ll spare at least one cup.”

Rodney nodded. “Yes, yes, of course,” he said, then they were both quiet, drinking the amber liquid slowly, enjoying the faint mellow burn.

Eventually they had drained the glasses and were still silent, revelling in the peace after the last few hectic days. The Daedalus was very welcome but made a lot of work, and socialising with its crew fell on John’s shoulders as much as anyone’s other than Elizabeth’s. Some of the spacemen still looked askance at John’s marriage to Rodney but Elizabeth insisted Rodney attend all the meetings and social occasions.

“They have to get used to it,” she said, “and that’s easier if you’re very present rather than just a name tucked away in a lab.”

“I enjoyed having you with me,” John said now, rising and stretching as he stripped off his uniform. Rodney followed his actions with his own until they were able to fall into bed, naked against each other and already eager to reaffirm their feelings, despite being tired.   
The kisses and caresses were more desperate than for some time. They had had no time or energy in the last few days for lovemaking. John stroked Rodney’s hip, his hand moving closer and closer to his cock, when they heard the noise.

Someone or something was bumping or scratching against their door. 

“Ignore them,” said Rodney, anxious to have John’s hand complete its current trajectory.

“We can’t.” John sounded exasperated but definite.

“They’ll go away, and anyway, they shouldn’t be disturbing us this late at night.”

“Rodney, if it was one of our fellow Atlanteans, they would use the sound system, or at least shout through the door. This has to be a Kammelian. We can’t very well ignore them.” John scrambled out of bed and into some sweatpants that might have been pretending to be pyjama bottoms, as he spoke. 

The bumping and scraping was louder now, impatient perhaps. Rodney pulled on his boxers as John went to the door.

“I still don’t see...” he started to say, but stopped as John opened the door, just a crack and Octoleon slid inside. It seemed to flatten itself into a kind of fat disc until it was through the space John had left, and then re-formed as a sphere once it was in the room. It was certainly Octoleon. They found it hard to tell the others apart but Octoleon and the one who had divided were sufficiently different in size from their fellows to make identification easy.

The Kammelian settled on the floor beneath the window and flashed brightly.

“Rodney,” said John, but Rodney was already opening his laptop and getting ready to translate. He wasn’t as good as Anna – that was something even he had to admit – but he could hold his own and he knew more than John about the coded flashes. 

“Well?” John sounded impatient and Rodney couldn’t but agree with that. They were interrupted in the middle of their off duty time and their privacy was invaded. The reason had better be good. 

“Octoleon says,” he began, slowly, much more slowly than Anna would have been, but then he hoped nobody was going to suggest Anna coming to their quarters at this time. “It says it has claimed us. No, not quite. It has claimed the right to remain. It will stay when the others leave.”

“Sounds like wanting refugee status,” said John.

“Not exactly. They need to leave one behind. When the Daedalus returns Cham will be too big to travel again so there will have to be another division and more babies. By then, Octoleon will be big enough to divide so we will get two more little ones and Octoleon will be smaller again. And then it will return to Kammel and the baby that stays here will probably be big enough to divide the next time. Or Cham will. And so on.”

“It doesn’t want to go home?”

“It wants to know Atlantis. It has only just begun learning it. It says it will be rich. Well, not exactly rich but I think they measure wealth in terms of knowledge. That’s why it has claimed the right to stay. The others agreed because it already knew us better than they do so it will learn faster.”

“That’s all very fine, but why tell us in the middle of the night?” John sounded as bewildered as Rodney felt.

“It wanted us to be the first to know. Now it will go and tell Elizabeth.”

“Oh no it won’t.” John shared a speaking look with his husband who grinned. If Octoleon disturbed Elizabeth and Radek in the same way, its reception would no doubt be very frosty indeed, especially since neither of those two would have a laptop to hand with the flash code installed. The same applied to Ronon. Teyla was on the mainland. Anna deserved sleep as much as anyone. It was going to be up to them to explain and defer the claim announcement until the morning. 

Octoleon was very puzzled. So puzzled that it flashed quite incomprehensibly for some time and then seemed to recollect itself. It started asking questions.

“Tell it humans need privacy for part of their day,” said John.

“I don’t think it understands,” said Rodney. 

“Tell it that it’s like when the other one wanted peace and quiet to divide.”

“Hmm. Now it wants to know if we’re going to divide. It seems to find the idea fascinating.”

Explaining human reproduction to a being that was essentially like an amoeba was not easy. It wasn’t made any easier by having to encode and flash all the explanation. Then further problems presented themselves. Once Octoleon knew about sex and children, it wanted to know which of them was female and when there would be babies. When that was sorted out, it couldn’t quite grasp why they would engage in sex without the possibility of offspring.

“I don’t think they do marriage, or romance, or anything like that.” Rodney groaned.

John didn’t really help matters by pointing out that Radek and Elizabeth were the correct gender from Octoleon’s point of view but were still unlikely to reproduce.

“It can’t see, in that case, why they would want to wait till tomorrow to hear about the claim,” said Rodney. 

“Tell it that if it wants to learn about us it’s going to have to accept a few things without question,” said John. “I don’t mind giving a biology lesson at this time of night but I’m not going into love, sex, and personal relationships till after breakfast. I suppose they don’t have nights, either.”

“I don’t think they do,” said Rodney, after some more flashing. “They have sleep periods, but those don’t always equate to our nights.”

“Something else it will have to come to terms with,” said John. “Though it can go and bother the night shift, and we must remember to provide a laptop with the code.”

Eventually, Octoleon seemed to accept the concept of night time, though privacy was harder to get across since it was apparently willing to be very quiet and just sit beneath the window while they rested. John was almost sputtering with rage until Rodney started laughing at the absurdity of it all. 

They were saved by some flashes outside the window and Octoleon was persuaded to join its fellow Kammelians for a last get-together in the waters of Atlantis. It could pass on some of the wealth it had just amassed, John suggested and it seemed this was an excellent idea.

There was a final session of flashes and Rodney assured John that Octoleon understood that it was not to visit private quarters at night, whether it understood the reason for the restriction or not. 

“It promised,” he said, as John opened the door. Before he had finished opening it, Octoleon did the flattening thing again and slipped out. The two sighs of relief were heartfelt. 

“Does that justify another brandy, do you think?” John sounded hopeful but Rodney shook his head.

“Not if we’re to carry on where we left off when we were so rudely interrupted,” he said.

“Coitus interruptus,” murmured John, but Rodney just looked at him, peeled off his boxers and got back into bed. John’s sweat pants joined the boxers on the floor, and then they were together at last. 

“No more privacy invasions,” said John, his hand beginning its exploration again.

“And no babies and no moths,” said Rodney. “Just us.”

“Just us and I can claim you, and the right to be with you.”

“As I can claim you,” Rodney pointed out, voice already slurring with desire.

“Yes, said John, fondly. “Now, where exactly were we?” 

Rodney showed him, quite forcefully, and this time, they were not interrupted at all.


End file.
